Christmas Sugar ~ Melanie Moreland Read online

  Is so. And don’t be rude.

  I grinned at the screen. I was snooty; I knew that. It helped me keep people at arm’s length.

  Be safe, dear boy.

  I smirked a little as I typed her reply.

  Well, unless I get eaten by wildlife when I step out of the minivan, I think I will be fine.

  A minivan—I’d pay good money to see you in the back seat of one of those.

  I’ll have you know I’m riding in the front seat. I am nothing if not adaptable to my environment.

  Adaptable? Stop it, Dylan. I swear you’re killing me. I can’t catch a breath from laughing.

  Fine. Good night, then.

  Her reply made me frown with its strange message.

  This trip is going to be an eye-opener for you, Dylan. Be sure not to miss anything.

  Shutting off my phone, I stared out into the darkness, again wondering what exactly she was talking about.

  Seth pulled up to the front of the inn and I slid out of the van, already shivering from the drastic change in temperature. “You go inside and I’ll park the van and bring your bags, Mr. Maxwell,” he instructed and pulled away, leaving me standing in the cold.

  I looked around, not able to see much except the building in front of me. The woods rose around the sides of the property, and I was sure I could hear the crash of ocean waves slamming into rocks. It was one of the key points of the property that made me want it. That, plus the fact that I owned the land on either side of it and had been waiting—not very patiently—for the piece to come up for sale. The three areas formed a triangle—the one with the inn being the uppermost point fully facing the water. When my contacts recently told me it was the right time, I had gotten in touch with Mr. Walsh before anyone else had a chance to find out it was going to be available.

  The inn itself showed me the age of the complex. A three-story building that had been, I was sure, quite nice in its day. Now, even in the dark, I could see it needed work. It wasn’t overly large, but I knew they also had cabins on the grounds, accounting for the majority of their revenue. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, which was hardly a surprise. All the information I had seen indicated they still did a decent business in the summer, mostly due to the location. However, once tourist season ended, they started bleeding red ink so fast it was as if a vampire had attacked its proverbial neck. Mr. Walsh needed the deal even more than I wanted it, no matter how hard to get he was playing. He was mortgaged to the hilt and teetering on the edge of financial disaster.

  Still, there were lights strung around the building and the front decorated nicely with large pots of evergreens and bows. I hurried inside, grateful for the warmth that greeted me.

  I glanced around at the old-fashioned lobby. A few well-worn sofas were in front of a roaring fireplace, which was double-sided and open to an older-style bar on the opposite wall. Tables and chairs were scattered around inside, a couple with people sitting at them. Business was about what I had expected: poor.

  A throat clearing had me looking toward the sound, and for a moment, I froze in place. Behind the large desk was a girl. No, a woman—a petite one, but a woman, nonetheless. She had dark brown hair that glinted red under the lights. It tumbled past her shoulders and down her back in long waves. Her complexion was creamy, and her green eyes were wide and apprehensive as she regarded me. She was very pretty.

  Then she smiled.

  Warm, wide, and so sweet, her smile literally took my breath away.

  No one had ever smiled at me like that. Ever. It was as if she was smiling for me. Just for me.

  I’d never reacted in such a way to a smile before.

  I smiled back.

  Just as wide, and judging from the darkening of her cheeks, equally as warm.

  For a brief moment, there was no one else, just that small woman and me in the room.

  Smiling.

  Until Seth hurried in, bringing with him a blast of arctic air. The sudden rush of cold burst the bubble that surrounded me and the beauty behind the desk. He stared between us, flummoxed. “Why are you just standing there?” Then he walked toward the desk, jerking his thumb in my direction.

  “This is Mr. Maxwell, Alex.”

  For some reason, my smile grew wider. That was the infamous Alex who was going to tan his hide?

  That little slip of a woman?

  Seth kept talking. “He’s tired, hungry, and thirsty.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice, but not low enough I couldn’t hear him. “And he’s kinda grumpy.”

  My eyebrows shot up, my smile dropped, and I glared at him. I wasn’t grumpy. I was doing my best to be polite.

  The smile vanished off Alex’s face, and her hand rose to her cheek in shock at his words. Her gaze flew to mine, knowing I had heard him. She reached over with her petite hand and pulled on his earlobe. “Seth! What did I tell you about learning to hold your tongue in front of guests?”

  “Ow! I was only telling you so you were prepared. You like to be prepared.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Take Mr. Maxwell’s luggage to his room, then go finish your chores. Now.”

  I stayed where I was and watched her, waiting for her to speak. The smile she offered me had turned distant, professional, and indifferent. I much preferred the one we’d shared moments ago. She held out her hand, her voice cool and low as she greeted me. “Welcome to Sleepy Moose Inn, Mr. Maxwell. I apologize for Seth. He’s still learning his way around. I’m Alexis.”

  Ah. Alexis to customers, Alex to people she liked. There was no doubt what category I fell into for her.

  I crossed the short lobby and wrapped my hand around hers, unsure why her composure had changed so drastically. It was as if the warmth I had felt disappeared as soon as she heard my name.

  The desire to know why shocked me. The feel of her hand in mine was strangely . . . right. Looking down, I could see her tiny hand was completely hidden in mine—as if I were protecting it.

  Shaking my head at my foolish thought, I broke our brief contact. Her green eyes regarded me coolly, and I felt my impatience reach its peak.

  “Maybe you should consider hiring grown-ups instead of children.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Seth is seventeen, almost eighteen, and very capable.”

  “In your opinion.”

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me? Did Seth behave inappropriately?”

  Opening my mouth, I was about to tell her exactly what he had done wrong in great detail. But I hesitated, remembering the way he’d begged me not to say anything. I shook my head and shut my mouth with a snap, unsure why I was keeping his poor behavior a secret.

  “No, Alexis. It’s fine. I’d like to go to my room now. It’s been a long day.”

  “Of course.” She handed me a key. “Room 240. Is there anything you require?”

  “No, I’ll order some room service to be sent up. There is wireless, yes?”

  “Yes, we have wireless, but we don’t offer room service.”

  I frowned. “Then I’ll go to the restaurant.”

  “There, ah, is no restaurant.”

  My hand curled on the desk, a tight fist forming as I struggled to maintain my temper. “What do your guests eat, then?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “We have breakfast daily and coffee service all day. The bar offers some snacks. Typically, guests dine off-premises. We try to encourage them to support our local restaurants.”

  “Are they open this time of year?”

  “Normally, yes, but not at this time of night.”

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to make do with snacks, then.” I paused before continuing, gathering my rapidly thinning patience. “Should I order something to be sent to my room? Or is that not available either?”

  “I’ll have something brought up if you like,” she stated.

  I closed my hand around the key. “Thank you.”

  “George—Mr. Walsh—asked me to remind you he’ll meet with you tomorrow morning.
He apologizes for not being able to meet you himself tonight—he is indisposed. I’ll show you to his office at ten tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, suddenly angry with the man who insisted I come to Pinegrove in the dead of winter and disrupt my busy life.

  “Have a pleasant night, Mr. Maxwell.”

  I nodded, striding over to the elevators, not bothering to answer her.

  I highly doubted it.

  MY DELUXE, ALL-INCLUSIVE ROOM WAS exactly what I expected after the day I’d had: horrible.

  I sat down heavily on the corner of the well-worn love seat and scanned the room—the dull beige walls, the queen-sized bed with a loud plaid bedspread and matching curtains. A tall armoire was in the corner, the doors open, showing the old TV on the top shelf and a minute refrigerator underneath. A coffeemaker was on the table, a short tower of foam cups ready to use beside it. The one other piece of furniture in the room was a chipped desk with a lamp on it and a lumpy-looking chair in front of it. A partially opened door offered me a view of a shower and dingy tiles in the bathroom.

  I had to admit it was scrupulously clean, yet the entire thing was downright depressing—and the worst part . . .

  No Courvoisier in sight.

  I leaned over and grabbed the phone, almost laughing when I saw the push buttons and the old clunky square design—but the avocado green color was the topper.

  I punched zero and waited.

  “Front desk, Alex speaking, how may I help you?”

  “Is it Alexis or Alex?” I barked out.

  “Whichever you prefer, Mr. Maxwell.”

  “Fine, Alex,” I snapped, knowing the familiarity would piss her off. “My Courvoisier.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My assistant was supposed to have arranged a bottle of Courvoisier in my room. It’s not here. Did you not get the message?”

  “I’ll have it sent up with your dinner.”

  I snorted. My snacks—right. It should be a great dinner.

  “I’d like it now.”

  Alex’s voice dropped, its tone icy-polite. “Right away, sir.”

  “Thank you.” I hung up and sat back, wondering why it bothered me what her tone sounded like.

  I returned some emails and a few texts, then stood to stretch, checking my watch. It had been twenty minutes. Apparently, now meant something different in Pinegrove from other parts of the country. Shaking my head, I grabbed my toiletry bag and went to have a shower.

  At least the water was hot and the pressure in the shower strong. It felt good pounding on my back. I got out and dried off, throwing on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. I realized I had only brought dress shoes with me, so I pulled on a pair of socks and decided to head downstairs to find out what the hell took so long to bring up a bottle of alcohol. Somehow, I doubted my lack of shoes would cause any great disturbance.

  I yanked open my door, stepped into the hall, and froze. Sitting on the floor a little way down the hall, was a child, playing quietly with a doll. I looked up and down the empty corridor, then back at her. She gazed up at me curiously, her wide green eyes calm. Reddish colored hair, long and curly, tumbled past her shoulders, and she was dressed in fuzzy pajamas with slippers on her feet.

  For a minute, I considered stepping back into my room and shutting the door. Children made me nervous. They were highly unpredictable—I never knew what they were going to do or say. Their hands were usually sticky, they often wanted hugs, or to feed you something they had already chewed. They darted places quickly and spoke in a language I often had trouble understanding, and the one down the hall didn’t have a parent around to interpret.

  As if she knew what I was thinking, she stood and smiled brightly at me.

  “Hi!”

  “Um, hello.”

  “I’m Nowowl. Wif two oowls.”

  What? She had owls?

  I cleared my throat. “Pardon?”

  She frowned and stepped closer. “N-o-e-owl-owl-e. Dat’s how you spewl it.” She looked proud when she finished her sentence. “My mommy taught me.”

  I mulled over her words in my head, then realized what she was saying.

  “Noelle? That’s your name?”

  She clapped her hands, grinning widely. I noticed she was missing her two front teeth, which explained her odd speech pattern. “Yeth! What’s yours?”

  “I’m Dylan Maxwell.”

  She pursed her lips. “Dats a big name. And it has owls in it. I has twouba wif owls.”

  For some reason, I bit back a grin. Considering the large gap in her teeth, I’d say she had trouble with H, L, R, and undoubtedly, a few other consonants. Some of her S’s were slurred, while others were clear. Strangely enough, I found it quite endearing rather than annoying. She didn’t make me nervous at all. She was cute, actually.

  “You can call me Dylan,” I offered.

  She held out her surprisingly clean hand. “Hewwo, Dywan.”

  Now, I was smiling. L’s were a big issue, it seemed.

  I folded my much larger hand over hers and shook it gently. “Hello, Noelle. That’s a pretty name.”

  She nodded. “My birfday is on twitmath. Mommy thays I was the best gift eveh.”

  “I bet she does.” I cleared my throat again. “Where, ah, is your mommy . . . and daddy?”

  “I not have a daddy.”

  “Oh. Your mommy, then?”

  “Mommy is wooking.”

  “Where does she work?”

  “Heewer.”

  I frowned. Her mother worked here and left her alone while she did so? That was unacceptable. The child was no more than four—maybe younger. Even I knew that was too young to be alone. Anger started to burn.

  “And you’re all alone?”

  “No. Sef is wooking afta me.”

  “Seth?”

  She nodded, giggling as she looked down the hall. “He posda be. He fawed asweep.”

  She sat down again and picked up her doll. “Me and Ewwy came to pway out hewe so we not wake him up.”

  For some unknown reason, I sat down beside her. “I don’t know if your mommy would like that.”

  She shook her head. “She not. I not tell her.” Her eyes grew big. “Iz you gonna tell her? Mommy fink I’m bad! I not ’posed to be in da hawl.”

  “I won’t tell her,” I promised, even as I realized I was now keeping the actions of two strangers secret. Interesting Seth was involved in the current situation too. He certainly got around.

  Maybe I should mention that to Alex when I went downstairs and retrieved my bottle of Courvoisier. Seth indicated she was in charge at the moment.

  “Does your mommy work every night?”

  She nodded. “She weads me a stowy when I go to bed. But not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  She bit her lip, looking around. “I not fink I ’posed to say.”

  I leaned forward. “I can keep a secret.”

  “Mommy tell Sef she had to make suppa”—she paused, her quiet voice becoming a whisper—“for an ath-hole.” Her eyes got bigger. “Dat’s a bad word, ya know. I not ’posed to thay bad words.”

  I forced myself not to laugh. “Does your mommy say them a lot?”

  She giggled, the sound adorable. “No. She wath mad.”

  “Ah. Well, I won’t tell.”

  “I yike you, Dywan.”

  She grinned up at me. It was a big, toothy grin. Her little face beamed with the warmth of her infectious smile. It reminded me of another smile . . .

  Just then, the elevator door opened and Alex stepped out. In her hands was a tray, and she stopped, staring at Noelle and me, surprise written all over her face.

  Her weary face. How had I not noticed earlier how tired she looked?

  For a moment, we regarded each other, then she moved forward.

  “Noelle, what are you doing out of bed?”

  Noelle shifted beside me. “Not sweepy, Mommy. I just pwaying.”

  “Where is Seth?”

  I couldn�
�t help snorting. “I think he was the sleepy one.”

  Alex’s gaze was ferocious. “What are you doing out of your room, Mr. Maxwell?”

  It was my turn to shift nervously—her look was enough to make anyone squirm. Breaking her gaze, I found my voice and my sarcasm. “I was coming to find my brandy. I didn’t realize you had to brew it before the bottle came upstairs.”

  “Did Seth not bring it to you?”

  “No.”

  She made a noise and thrust the tray toward me. “Take this.”

  Dumbfounded, I reached up and took the tray from her hands. I was sure she growled.

  “Stay right here. Both of you.”

  Turning on her heel, she marched down the hall, disappearing into a room. Neither Noelle nor I moved. I knew she was obeying her mother, but I wasn’t sure why I was following her orders.

  “What’s dat?”

  I glanced down at the tray. “My supper, I think.”

  “Oh.” Then Noelle gasped. “Dywan! Iz you da ath-hole?”

  I blinked at her, then the tray.

  I guessed I was.

  Huh.

  The door opened down the hall, and Seth stumbled out, followed by Alex. I pushed myself up to my feet as she pulled him along, stopping in front of me. One hand gripped his arm, the other around the bottle I’d been waiting for since I arrived.

  “Apologize to Mr. Maxwell.”

  He looked at me. “I’m s-sorry—Alex sent me up as soon as she got back. I knocked, but there was no answer. I heard the shower running so I went to check on Noelle, and I guess I fell asleep while I was waiting.”

  “Got back from where?”

  He stared at me as if I were crazy. “She had to go get your stuff, man. I’m not old enough to buy it.”

  I looked at Alex. “It wasn’t here? You don’t have it in the bar?”

  Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “No, sir, we don’t stock that. It’s rather . . . expensive. Your assistant’s request came in late this afternoon, and I hadn’t had time to see to it. I had Susan watch the desk while I went to get it. Seth was to bring it to you, then relieve her while I did another task.”

  “Make da ath-hole his suppa,” stated Noelle firmly. “Dat’s Dywan.”

  Alex gasped, Seth started to laugh heartily, and before I could stop myself, so did I. In fact, I laughed so hard, I almost dropped the tray. Finally calming, I reached over and plucked the bottle from Alex’s hand.